


Coveralls

by putorius



Series: coveralls [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Flustered Gansey, M/M, Other, Truth or Dare, gansey blunders around for a while, mechanic Adam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:20:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/putorius/pseuds/putorius
Summary: “However,” said Gansey, petulant. “We - that is, the both of us - couldn’t help but notice certain things about your person.”“My person?” asked Adam.“Yes,” said Gansey. “There were certain characteristics you possess that we hadn’t, how should I say, catalogued, which led to our stuttering nature.”Ronan held out his hand for Chainsaw to land on. She’d gotten really good at bringing him paper clips when he told her to.“Oh, they were catalogued, alright,” said Ronan. “Dick just forgot.”--otherwise known as the one when they forgot adam was cutethis fic is effectively just me being emotional at three am every once in a while! no discernible plot, but thats fine





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this will be two chapters i think? sure!  
> if you follow my les mis fic, dont worry! that should be up either tonight or tomorrow.

They’d never seen Adam looking like that before. That was the problem with the whole thing. They’d never seen it, so they weren’t expecting it.

Ronan pulled up to the garage like he was trying to hit something, all gas and no coordination.

“I don’t know why you have to drive like that,” said Gansey, doing his best to look unconcerned with almost having been in a car wreck.

“I don’t know why you let me drive,” said Ronan. Ronan’s grin was all teeth - he’d told Gansey earlier that he’d only go out to look for Adam with him if he got to drive, and Gansey had given in.

“If he isn’t here, he’s at home,” said Gansey, getting out of the car. They both knew they weren’t ever supposed to go poking around at Adam’s home, but Gansey had been getting antsy without knowing where Adam had been for the past several days. “I wish he’d let me get him a cell phone.”

“He doesn’t even stay the fucking night,” said Ronan. “He won’t kip at the end of your bed, you think he’s about to let you buy him an iPhone?”

“I’d settle for a flip phone,” said Gansey.

They pushed through the door of the auto shop. A bell sounded when they came in. They were hit with a flood of metallic air conditioning, sharp against the Henrietta heat. They always had the same kind of faulty air conditioners in these places, the kind that worked in overdrive and made everything smell like aerosol. The man at the counter, larger and stronger looking than the both of them together, squared up his shoulders. People always did when Ronan and Gansey went places together, presumably because Gansey looked like money and Ronan looked like trouble.

“Hello,” said Gansey. “We’re looking for an Adam Parrish. Does he work today?”

“‘M sure he’ll get your car fixed alright,” said the man. “He’s one of our best.”

“Oh, no,” Gansey waved a hand. “I’m not here about a car. He’s our friend, and we haven’t seen him in days. We’re only worried.”

Gansey had a political way about him that he didn’t much like, but it could be used to charm people into giving him whatever he wanted.

“You’re worried ‘bout Adam?” asked the man. “Shoot, I’d be worried ‘bout anyone who  _ crossed _ Adam Parrish.”

“The hell does that mean?” asked Ronan.

“Ronan? Gansey?”

They turned. It was Adam. 

“Oh, my,” said Gansey.

“Holy shit,” said Ronan.

Adam was standing in the doorway between the garage and the main office. Despite the intense work of the air conditioner, they could feel the puffs of hot air roll in from the garage. Ronan thought briefly about how stupid it was that the goon behind the counter could use up all that cold air on himself, and not try to cool the garage. Gansey blinked several times and couldn’t come up with a single thing to say. He couldn’t think of a single thing, not when Adam was standing there all shiny from the heat, wiping his hands on some grease stained rag, and wearing  _ that _ .

“What’re y’all doing here?” asked Adam. He always put less effort into sounding northern when he was working at the shop, because the kinds of people who came in were the kinds of people who thought that sort of accent was endearing, especially as it rolled off the tongue of some doe-eyed freckled teenager.

“Um, well,” said Gansey. “We couldn’t call you.”

“What the hell are you  _ wearing _ ?” asked Ronan. “You look like a mechanic in a low budget porno.”

“Low budget, really,” said Adam. He looked down at himself anyway. He couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. Adam was wearing what he normally did when he worked, that is, he was wearing his good work boots and coveralls. It was just about the least attractive thing he could think of wearing.

“Seems normal to me,” he said. “Did you need somethin’?”

“Normal,” scoffed Ronan. He looked at Gansey in exasperated confirmation. “This kid thinks looking like that is  _ normal _ .”

Gansey looked Adam over again. He was wearing his coveralls, sure, but he had them all tied around his waist. He had a white tank top on too, but it didn’t seem to be doing him any good. The way it was, it was almost see-through. If you asked Gansey, Adam looked like some kind of Abercrombie model, all unreasonably muscled and attractive like that.

“Looks alright to me,” said Gansey. He sounded strained.

“I’m on the clock,” said Adam. “If you’ve gotta talk to me now, could we at least do it in the garage?”

Gansey looked at the man behind the counter. He didn’t want to get Adam in trouble at work - if he got him fired, Adam wouldn’t forgive him, and he wouldn’t take any of Gansey’s money as consolation.

“Don’t fuck anything up,” said the man. “You break someone’s car even worse just to talk to your boyfriends, and it’ll be outta your paycheck.”

“Yessir,” said Adam. He turned back through the door and they followed him through.

It was sweltering in the garage. As hot as it was, Ronan could hardly believe Adam kept the undershirt on at all.

“So,” said Adam. “Are you going to tell me anything, or are you just followin’ me around for the fun of it?”

Gansey had never noticed it before, but Adam was one of those people who walked around dropping their hips and moving their torsos in a loose sort of way. Adam moved like he was sauntering, only he clearly didn’t  _ mean _ to be sauntering. He was malleable, that way.

Ronan nudged Gansey, who was gaping something awful.

“We were worried about you,” said Gansey finally. “Haven’t seen you in a few days.”

“I’ve been working,” said Adam. He was going at something under the hood rather aggressively with a wrench. Ronan hadn’t noticed it before, but Adam had some seriously intense biceps.

“Parrish, when did you get fucking jacked?” asked Ronan. He felt Gansey tense beside him, but Adam laughed.

“Freshman year,” he said. “Right around when I started working here.”

“Good god,” said Gansey.

Adam wiped his forehead on the back of his hand. Ronan thought he looked like a calendar picture.

“Look,” said Adam. “I’ll swing by Monmouth after work. Is that alright?”

“That’s alright,” said Gansey.

Ronan, feeling pretty done with this shit already, turned around to go.

\---

When Gansey and Ronan got back in the car, Ronan started driving without a destination in mind.

“Are we going back to Monmouth?” asked Gansey. 

“We can,” said Ronan. “I was just driving.”

“We could stop by Nino’s,” said Gansey.

“Could,” said Ronan. He wasn’t altogether excited to watch Gansey to make a fool of himself in front of Blue again, not after he watched Gansey make a fool of himself in front of Adam. Ronan didn’t know Gansey  _ could _ make a fool of himself in front of Adam. He thought you reached a point in a friendship where things would stop embarrassing you in front of them, and he thought they’d all hit it. He thought they’d hit it pretty early on, since some of Gansey’s first words to Adam were about that damn Welsh king, and since Adam had stayed with them anyway.

“She’ll rip you a new one,” said Ronan.

“For what?” asked Gansey.

“She’ll make fun of you, since you won’t be able to stop yourself from waxing poetic about Parrish.” said Ronan.

“I wasn’t going to  _ wax poetic _ ,” said Gansey, taken aback.

“I know you weren’t planning on it,” said Ronan. “But you’d just go ahead and do it anyway.”

Gansey paused. He knew that sometimes he was somewhat superfluous with his admiration of Adam, but how could he not be? It felt like Adam was always two seconds away from vanishing into thin air, or floating away, or darting in front of a moving truck in fear. He had to say everything and  _ feel  _ everything while he still could.

“Ronan,” said Gansey slowly. “Didn’t you  _ see  _ him back there?”

“Yeah,” said Ronan, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter. “Yeah, I’d say I fucking did.”

“I’d forgotten he could look like that,” said Gansey. Adam had looked something similar when they’d first met, because Adam had been working on the Pig.

“Bully for you,” said Ronan. He hadn’t forgotten.

\---

When Adam ended up at Monmouth after work, he wasn’t wearing his work clothes anymore. He’d showered and changed into his faded Coke t-shirt, and he looked much softer in the lighting of the warehouse.

“Hey,” said Adam, dropping his bag at the door.

Ronan nodded at him from the couch on the far side of the room where he was attempting to teach Chainsaw to retrieve knick knacks for treats. Gansey looked up like a deer in headlights, clutching a small cardboard version of Blue’s house. He usually liked to save his replica of Henrietta for late at night when he couldn’t sleep, but he was too riled up to do anything else.

“Hey,” said Gansey, gripping the cardboard house tighter than necessary.

Adam sat down cross-legged at the head of the room so he could see both Gansey and Ronan.

“Not to be blunt,” said Adam. “But you look like hell.”

Ronan’s laugh was a bark. Gansey tried to switch himself on, to turn up the brightness of himself so he’d betray less of how he felt in that moment.

“Nonsense,” said Gansey. “I’m just tired.”

Adam worried the fraying edge of the carpet. He took a breath and held it for a moment.

“What were you thinking, coming into my work like that?” he asked. He didn’t sound upset, but like he might be if they answered wrong.

“He couldn’t find you and got scared,” said Ronan. “He’s got shitting anxiety, like a dog.”

“Hush, you,” said Gansey. He turned to Adam. “You dropped of the grid for a couple of days. We get worried.”

“You didn’t have to come to my job,” said Adam. “I would have stopped by eventually.”

It was a lie. He wouldn’t have come by until school started up again, and he only would have come on invitation.

“I thought it’d be worse to go by your house,” said Gansey.

Adam nodded. It  _ would _ have been worse if they’d gone by his house, especially since he hadn’t been home. His dad would have blown his lid, and Adam wouldn’t have been able to see it coming. It was always easier if he could see it coming.

“I’m here now,” said Adam. He felt like the room was much bigger than it was - open and echoing, like Ronan and Gansey were a world away.

“I do have to say,” said Gansey. “That we didn’t show up at your place of work just to stutter over ourselves like that.”

“Speak for yourself,” said Ronan. “You were doing all the stuttering, not me.”

“ _ However _ ,” said Gansey, petulant. “We - that is, the both of us - couldn’t help but notice certain things about your person.”

“My person?” asked Adam.

“Yes,” said Gansey. “There were certain characteristics you possess that we hadn’t, how should I say, catalogued, which led to our stuttering nature.”

Ronan held out his hand for Chainsaw to land on. She’d gotten really good at bringing him paper clips when he told her to.

“Oh, they were catalogued, alright,” said Ronan. “Dick just forgot.”

“I’m confused,” said Adam.

Gansey looked about as close to floundering as Gansey ever got, which wasn’t very. He was searching for words he couldn’t find, but didn’t seem all that panicked over it. Ronan looked both amused  _ and _ irritated, which was fairly standard for Ronan if he wasn’t actively angry. Gansey wished, just for just a moment, that he could wipe that smug look off Ronan’s face. He didn’t think it maliciously - it was just that he didn’t want to be alone under Adam’s gaze. He knew that if he shifted the focus to Ronan, that smug look would go away.

“He thinks you’re hot,” said Ronan.

“To be fair,” said Gansey quickly. “Ronan also thinks you’re hot.”

Ronan threw a rubber band ball at the back of Gansey’s head.

“Hey!” said Gansey, rubbing the back of his head.

“I would’a set Chainsaw on you, but she won’t sic on anybody yet,” said Ronan.

“Alright,” said Adam. “Whatever.”

Adam wouldn’t look at either of them. He looked like he was well on the way to getting angry, but he wasn’t quite there yet.

“We aren’t trying to make you uncomfortable,” said Gansey kindly. “I just thought you should know, as an explanation for our behavior.”

Ronan got up and smacked Gansey upside the head. He didn’t do it enough to injure, but just enough to twinge.

“Alright,” said Gansey. “As an explanation for  _ my _ behavior, and then I dragged Ronan down with me because he  _ does _ think you’re cute, and you’ve got a hell of a gaze.”

“What does that mean?” asked Adam.

“Cute?” said Ronan. “Well, it means I think you’re a mighty swell sort of gal, Adam.”

He was joking, and he was doing it to be mean, but the spite was directed at Gansey. Adam didn’t care who it was for and puffed up anyway.

“I meant,” said Adam, sounding sufficiently irritated by now. “What do you mean I’ve ‘got a hell of a gaze’?”

“Oh!” said Gansey. “I just mean that your eyes have an intense way about them.”

“Uh-huh,” said Adam. “Alright. Well, if that’s all I’m going to head on home.”

Gansey made to stand up. “Now, wait,” he said.

“No thanks,” said Adam. “I think I’ll just go.”

“Parrish,” said Ronan. He said it in a way that made the both Adam and Gansey stop in their tracks - Ronan had turned Adam’s name into a command. Ronan was good at that sort of thing.

“What do you want?” asked Adam. Ronan shrugged at him.

“Gansey’s been bouncing off the walls,” said Ronan. “Have mercy on him.”

Adam huffed, but he sat back down. Gansey relaxed by a significant amount.

“Well,” said Gansey. “I think we should do something.”

“If I have to get up from this spot, I’ll murder something,” said Ronan.

“Like what?” Adam asked. Ronan and Gansey answered at the same time.

“Dick, maybe.”

“A game, maybe.”

Adam rolled his eyes at the both of them. He could feel his previous irritation dissipating - he knew, truly, that they hadn’t meant it to feel like that, but it did anyway. Sometimes Adam felt like a novelty to the two of them. For Gansey to suddenly claim that Adam was, well,  _ cute _ after seeing him in his work clothes and  _ only _ after seeing him in his work clothes seemed suspicious. It was further proof that Gansey liked to collect poor things to get the poor experience. Ronan didn’t do that - he was just an asshole.

“What kinda game?” asked Adam.

Ronan, feeling especially dangerous, decided to egg on Gansey. “We could play  _ spin the bottle _ ,” he said. He gave a mediocre impression of a middle school girl, faking a lisp to bring it all home. If Blue had been there, she would have hit him for it, calling him on making fun of both middle school girls (a group of people that high school boys have no business making fun of) and on making fun of lisps, and Ronan would have rolled his eyes and called her a petty, poverty based nickname, and she would have hit him again. Despite it all, he’d have listened to her. As prickly as the two of them were, Blue had proven herself to Ronan whether she wanted to or not, and she was now included in the list of people he paid attention to.

“There are only three of us,” said Gansey. “So I’m afraid it would be a boring game. I must say that I’m not opposed to the genre.”

“Of what, kissing games?” asked Ronan. He’d been joking to get a rise out of Gansey, but he should have known he’d be taken seriously.

“I more meant games from the era of faked maturity,” said Gansey. “You know, when we all played spin the bottle and truth or dare when we were young, like we had any real secrets to keep. There was nothing for us to hide then, except for maybe the need to feel adult which fueled the game playing in the first place.”

Gansey could spew nonsense like that without even trying. He wondered if Gansey thought about it or if it was just a product of his upbringing that he talked the way he did. Hearing Gansey talk about being twelve like that was absurd in itself, and Adam could hardly contain his laugh. When Adam laughed, it was usually quiet, and exhale paired with a smile and not much fuss. This was a bark. It surprised both Gansey and Ronan.

“So, what, truth or dare?” asked Adam. Ronan grinned and it was all teeth. There’s no way he was going to do that.

“I am not opposed,” said Gansey. “It would be a good bonding activity.”

“For fuck’s sake,” said Ronan.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They thought about waiting for Noah to come back - this was the exact kind of thing Noah would have loved - but Adam would have to go home eventually and there was no telling how long they’d be waiting. They gathered in a circle somewhere north of the cardboard town. Gansey grabbed a stray Coke bottle on his way down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a one shot and then it was supposed to just be two chapters and now its looking like it'll be three or four. anyway i was going to write something about adam graduating (bc i just graduated! today!) but i couldnt wrap my head around it, so i wrote this instead.

\---

They thought about waiting for Noah to come back - this was the exact kind of thing Noah would have loved - but Adam would have to go home eventually and there was no telling how long they’d be waiting. They gathered in a circle somewhere north of the cardboard town. Gansey grabbed a stray Coke bottle on his way down.

“We’d better not be playing spin the bottle,” said Ronan.

“I thought it would be more fun if we were asked at random,” said Gansey. “There are only three of us, I mean.”

“Who wants to go first?” asked Adam. He pulled at the fraying edge of his sneakers and rested his elbows on his knees.

“I thought you might do the honors,” said Gansey, offering the bottle to Adam.

Adam looked for a moment like he might reject the offer, but, registering the sincerely earnest look on Gansey’s face, took the bottle from his hands. He spun it.

“Fuck off,”said Ronan. The bottle had landed on him.

“Ronan Lynch,” said Adam. “Truth or dare?”

Ronan hated being humiliated, but he also hated having anyone know anything about him. He was going to be sufficiently bothered whichever he picked.

“Dare,” said Ronan. At least this way, he could attempt to maintain his air of recklessness.

“Dare,” said Adam. “Interesting. You know, I’d really like you to get a temporary tattoo.”

“A temporary tattoo?” asked Ronan. He bared his teeth. “That’s weak, Parrish.”

“One of the ones from that convenience store down the block,” said Adam. “On your neck, I think.”

Ronan’s grin disappeared. Those were what cheap Henrietta mothers bought for their kids birthday parties, the kind that left patchy glitter on you for weeks afterwards.

“Are you fucking serious?” said Ronan.

“We can go get them when you drive me home,” said Adam. “Don’t fret about it now.”

Gansey stifled a laugh. Ronan glared at him.

“Careful, Gansey,” said Ronan. “I’m fucking coming for you.”

“Spin to win, Ronan,” said Gansey. He leaned back into the heels of his hands.

Ronan grabbed the bottle and spun. It landed on Adam.

“Now, I’d be willing to forfeit my turn to Gansey,” said Adam. “You know, since I already participated.”

“Respect the bottle,” said Gansey. “It has made its choice.”

Adam rolled his eyes. He was beginning to enjoy the game.

“Truth or dare?” asked Ronan.

“Fair is fair, I suppose. Dare,” said Adam.

Ronan stood up and went to his room without saying anything. Gansey and Adam shared a look, trying to determine if either of them had suddenly offended Ronan. He returned quickly to assuage their fears. He was carrying a two-liter of Mountain Dew.

“Drink this,” said Ronan. “All of it. Right now.”

Adam took the bottle with a hesitant hand.

“That stuff’s like lighter fluid, Ronan,” said Gansey. “Adam’ll throw up if he chugs it.”

Adam thought back to the time he’d chugged a full gallon of milk before eating a bag of discount candy. He’d called it breakfast.

“I think I can do it,” he said.

“Adam,” said Gansey. “I don’t think you should - ”

It was too late. The bottle was already half empty and Adam was going strong.

“Holy shit,” said Ronan. “Holy fucking shit.”

Adam set down the empty bottle and coughed lightly.

“I don’t think I got enough air before,” said Adam. “Not enough oxygen.”

Ronan clapped him on the back. “I’ve never been more proud of you,” he said.

Adam flushed slightly under the praise. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before grabbing the Coke bottle and giving it a spin. It landed on Gansey.

“Truth,” he said. He didn’t even wait for Adam to ask.

“Eager,” said Adam. Gansey nodded.

There wasn’t anything Adam wanted to ask. Nothing he didn’t already know that he needed to know, except maybe a few formative things, maybe about his childhood or his obsession with Glendower. What Adam really wanted to ask was what Gansey was going to do with himself when this was all over, and what he would do if it turned out it was all bullshit.

“Which season of _The Office_ do you think is best?” asked Adam. He hadn’t watched much of _The Office_ himself, but he knew Gansey had a certain affection for it. Part of him thought Gansey liked shows like _The Office_ because he liked to peer into the lives of the common people. The real reason Gansey liked shows like _The Office_ was because he liked to peer into the lives of anyone at all, and _The Office_ was the perfect slice-of-life type show, real in its dialogue and as though you happened to wander into the offices of Dunder Mifflin on accident.

“Oh, come on,” said Ronan. “You make me get some glitter-infested tattoo on my neck and _he_ gets some stupid question about his favorite show?”

“Gansey,” said Adam pointedly.

“Well,” said Gansey. “Seasons two through five are the best seasons overall, but I suppose season four has the highest amount of sincerely _good_ episodes. Does that suffice?”

“It does,” said Adam.

“Excellent,” Gansey took the Coke bottle and spun it with a flourish. It chose Ronan.

“Truth or dare?”

Ronan hesitated. He supposed that if he was going to offer himself up, there was no better time than when he was already feeling loose and at home, with moonlight beginning to stream into Monmouth through the expansive windows. Besides, he couldn’t risk another dare. Gansey was many things, but he was not afraid of Ronan Lynch, or uncertain about his position with Ronan. Any hesitation Adam might have experienced in daring Ronan would not exist in Gansey.

“Truth,” said Ronan.

“Hey,” said Adam, he and Gansey leaning back to share surprised looks.

“The offer expires in about thirty seconds, so you’d better think fast,” said Ronan, looking severe. Ronan always looked severe, like he was walking around with the volume turned up, but in the moment it was a manner of compensation - he had to look like he might gnaw someone’s arm off to ease the attempt at openness.

“Oh, God,” said Gansey. He’d had a dare prepared, but not a truth.

“Tick tock,” said Adam, grinning.

“What’s - uh - what’s your favorite - ” stuttered Gansey.

“My _favorite?_ You’re gonna waste a ‘truth’ on a _favorite_?” said Ronan. Adam laughed into his hand.

“What’s your favorite - fuck - cereal? What’s your favorite cereal?” said Gansey. He looked confused with himself as he was saying it.

“Oh my God, Gansey,” said Adam. “I’ve never seen you flounder like that.”

“The first time he talked to Blue was pretty close,” said Ronan.

“Sure, but he could at least get a full sentence out then,” said Adam.

“Shut up,” said Gansey. The edge of a blush was creeping around his collar. “You still have to answer, Lynch.”

Ronan looked bashful for half a second before straightening himself out.

“Cheerios,” he said. “Okay? Cheerios.”

The uproar was unprecedented. They’d been fully expecting an answer filled with sugar or some other impracticality - a cereal so shitty you’d only buy it for the toy inside, maybe the Chocolate-Frosted Sugar Bombs from _Calvin and Hobbes_ \- but neither had anticipated the possibility of an innocuous cereal, maybe one a mother would buy. Gansey, filled with a rush of confused energy, leapt to his feet. Adam fell backwards (which, given that he’d been sitting cross-legged, wasn’t all that far a drop) and covered his face with his hands. The game had quickly dissipated any ill feelings they’d been carrying around from their respective carelessness with each other and, in so few questions, had brought them back to what they were supposed to be - happy teenage boys.

“Explain,” said Gansey. “I’m begging you for your reasoning. Please don’t make me wait until it’s your turn again.”

Ronan scratched the back of his head. It was freshly buzzed and therefore a little itchy, a sensation he would never exactly get used to.

“They’re heart-healthy,” said Ronan. He tried to make his voice sound plain, but it cracked a little towards the end, presumably under the pressure of the situation’s absurdity.

Adam, who had only just begun to release his face from his hands, dissolved into peals of silent laughter and was forced to cover his face again.

“Christ,” he said. “That’s the best thing in the world. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, and it’s because Ronan Lynch fucking loves Cheerios.”

Gansey and Ronan both laughed because Adam had meant it as a joke, but they both knew there was something else under it. It was entirely possible that this _was_ the happiest Adam had ever been, and they believed it because they knew Adam to be profoundly unhappy and because the both of them were also practically overflowing with happiness. The only thing that could have made them giddier was the addition of Blue and Noah.

They each got the impression, sometimes, that there was no one of them without the others. They were whole people, to be sure, and it wasn’t that they completed each other, but that once they had been fastened together they made something more than what they had been before. If any of them had been less oblivious (or as acutely tuned to this sort of thing as Blue), they’d consider themselves to all be in some kind of love with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk when the next will be up? possibly tomorrow, or fairly soon, i think. anyway, please leave a comment if you enjoyed this! theyre very motivational thank you  
> if you want to hang out w/ me when im not on ao3, you can find me on tumblr @putoriius ! feel free to send me a message over there


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re comparing a fifty-cent piece of shit to a nine-hundred dollar work of art,” said Ronan.
> 
> “I know what I’m doing,” said Adam. “I’m comparing a fifty-cent work of art to a nine-hundred dollar piece of shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today i spent a few hours marking my favorite lines in the brick and then wrote this all in one sitting while watching the office. i didnt edit it, so uh, sorry its probably nonsense

Their questions and dares advanced as time went on. Gansey was made to attempt the Cha-Cha Slide from memory. Adam revealed a birthmark on his hip, which was shaped like Australia. Ronan confessed - out loud, even - the reason he had shaved his head that first time. On another turn, it was revealed that part of the reason he didn’t grow it back out was because he thought the in-between length looked stupid. Gansey explained to them how truly afraid of bees he was, and also, how afraid of being left alone. Ronan, to test the garbage disposal-like qualities of Adam’s stomach, challenged Adam to drink a smoothie of whatever they could find in the kitchen. It was discovered, at this point, that there was not a blender in the entirety of Monmouth Manufacturing.

“You’ll owe me,” said Ronan. “Next time we see a blender.”

“Uh-huh,” said Adam. “Sure.”

They were dissolving into each other in a way that might have indicated drunkenness, except for that they were all totally sober. Adam considered his happiness again - he tried, and often failed, to love the two of them at an arm's-length. His friendship with the two of them was another thing that was part of Henrietta, and maybe the only thing he didn’t want to leave behind. He’d expand that to include Blue and Noah, given enough time.

“Alright,” said Gansey. “Hand me the bottle.”

Ronan nudged the Coke bottle towards Gansey with his foot. Gansey eyed him carefully, but couldn’t bring himself to be properly irritated. He took the bottle and spun. Adam.

“Truth or dare?” he asked.

“Truth,” said Adam.

“Tell us about your first kiss,” said Gansey.

Adam cocked his head. “Technically speaking, that isn’t a question. That’s a request,” he said.

“Don’t want to answer?” asked Ronan. He was joking, or trying to make a joke of it, but he was probably willing to fight Gansey over Adam’s comfort. Gansey was probably willing to fight  _ anyone  _ over Adam’s comfort, including Adam himself. He would have backed down in a second if Adam had rejected the question.

“No, I’ll answer,” said Adam. “It was Gansey.”

Ronan’s mouth fell open in shock. He looked quickly to Gansey, and was even more shocked to see the open-mouthed surprise on Gansey’s face.

“Me?” asked Gansey.

“Yeah, remember?” said Adam. He was sounding a little self-conscious, like maybe he thought Gansey had either forgotten (like Adam was forgettable) or that he had erased it from his memory (like it had been so terrible).

“Of course I remember kissing you,” said Gansey, nearly offended. “It’s just that I had  _ no idea _ that was your  _ first  _ kiss.”

“What the  _ fuck _ ,” said Ronan, who had failed to remove any shock from his face. “Someone had better start saying things that make sense or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“Well,” said Gansey. “It’s Adam’s turn to share, so I suppose that’s up to him.”

Adam took this as Gansey’s permission.

“It wasn’t - we were in the parking lot. I don’t know, we were talking about stupid things we’d done when we were younger. Gansey was telling me about some girl he’d kissed in middle school and how bad he was -”

“There was a confusing amount of teeth,” interjected Gansey.

“Right,” said Adam. “That’s what you said, and I was thinking, like, what amount of teeth could be considered confusing?”

“I kept trying to explain,” said Gansey.

“But it didn’t make any sense, and eventually he said it would probably just be easier to show me,” said Adam.

“I was kidding,” said Gansey, who actually had been kidding originally, but who had quickly stopped kidding once it dawned on him what it could be like to actually kiss Adam Parrish.

“But then you kissed me anyway,” said Adam. “Given that it was for the sake of explanation, I wouldn’t consider it a real kiss, except for that you sort of -”

“Okay,” said Gansey. “Ronan gets it.”

“Holy shit,” said Ronan.

“He sort of - I don’t know, he got very. Tender, I guess,” said Adam.

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” said Ronan.

Gansey was, at this point, bright red. Adam had given an accurate recount of the night.

“Anyway,” said Gansey. “What say we go get those tattoos now?”

Ronan had nearly forgotten his promise to buy temporary tattoos and briefly thought Gansey wanted to get real tattoos, and as a group.

“Fine,” said Ronan. “I’m driving.”

“I don’t want to die tonight, Ronan,” said Adam. “Gansey had better drive.”

“I’m driving,” said Ronan again.

\---

It was so dark out by the time they arrived in the convenience store that the terrible fluorescent lights were blindingly bright when they walked in. A light in the far corner flickered continuously. Adam had once remarked that convenience stores and gas stations were liminal spaces, not just as an in-between for the physical world, but as a manufactured ley line, probably between different realities. Adam had meant this as a joke - he could get superfluous with his humor if he was tired enough - but Gansey had taken it so seriously that he’d begun an investigation. Adam shook a stray snow globe and smiled at the memory.

“Over here,” said Ronan. He had found the selection of temporary tattoos.

They weren’t even on a shelf. They found their home around the flat side of the shelving and hung on plastic rungs. The three boys looked down at their choices. A butterfly, a unicorn, and a playful robot smiled up at them.

“Please let me get the robot,” said Ronan.

“No way,” said Adam. “Unicorn or bust, man.”

“Dude,” said Ronan.

It was too late. Gansey was already bringing it up to the register.

“We need water,” said Adam.

“There’s water at Monmouth,” said Ronan.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need this to be on your neck as soon as possible,” said Adam. He grabbed a half-sized bottle of water and jogged up to meet Gansey at the counter. They locked eyes and, for a moment, it looked like Adam wasn’t going to let Gansey pay. He figured, though, that this was for Ronan, and that he could let it slide.

They found themselves outside in the parking lot. There was one streetlight in the lot and it was hardly effective. Ronan jumped up on the hood of the car, letting his legs swing off.

“Have at it,” he said.

Adam and Gansey grinned at each other. Adam took the tattoo and water from Gansey and walked up to Ronan. There was a moment - however brief - that Adam registered what it felt like to have Ronan’s knees knock into his thighs.

“We need a rag,” said Adam.

“They probably sell washcloths or something,” said Gansey.

Adam pursed his lips. He hadn’t meant for the dare to cost anything other than the fifty cents for the tattoo itself.

“No, I got it,” said Adam. He took the hem of Ronan’s tank top, which was practically billowy in its looseness, and wet it with the water bottle.

“Fuck you,” said Ronan.

“Don’t squirm,” said Adam.

He dropped Ronan’s tank top and Ronan hissed at the cold against his skin. Adam peeled the back off of the tattoo and positioned it against Ronan’s neck, just as it began to turn into his jaw.

“Gansey,” said Adam.

Gansey stepped forward and held the tattoo in place. He hadn’t had to maneuver himself to fit around two people like this since grade school, during which he’d played a miraculous amount of Twister.

“Okay,” said Gansey. “I have it.”

Adam took up the hem of Ronan’s shirt again and pressed it against Ronan’s neck. Ronan clenched his jaw at the cold, but said nothing.

“Better or worse than when you got that shit on your back?” asked Adam.

“Worse,” said Ronan. “One-hundred percent.”

Adam smiled. He was paying excessive attention to Ronan’s neck and the tattoo - it needed pressure to set, sure, but not the unwavering stare. He held the fabric there until the water stopped feeling so cold and started feeling a little warm and then, unwilling to lose contact immediately, began to pat the tattoo slightly.

“Seems alright,” said Adam. “Gansey, why don’t you check it?”

Adam pulled his hand away and dropped the tank top, but didn’t step back. Gansey peeled the plastic back slightly.

“Looks clean,” said Gansey. He pulled the rest of it back.

Gansey and Adam inspected the tattoo.

“Do I look hardcore?” asked Ronan, deadpan.

“Yeah,” said Adam.

“Classy,” said Gansey. Ronan did something that approximated a smile, but was about a hundred times more deadly. Gansey wanted to put his hand back on Ronan’s neck.

Gansey didn’t step away even though there was no point in standing that close to either of them anymore. Adam didn’t step away either - he wanted to wait until the last second, until Gansey stepped back or until Ronan told him to move. Ronan couldn’t move without Adam moving, not unless he wanted to get seriously close to Adam.

“Well,” Gansey coughed. “We should - we should go.”

“Right,” said Adam. “No point in loitering. I have to get home soon, anyway.”

They dispersed. Ronan tossed the keys at Gansey, who nearly missed catching them. They clambered into the car. Adam got into the backseat - if Ronan wasn’t driving, he was usually sitting in the passenger seat - and was surprised to find Ronan in the other side of the backseat.

“Thought you might get lonely,” said Ronan. It was a challenge.

“Considerate,” said Adam.

“I hope the two of you have buckled up,” said Gansey. Neither of them had, and knew Gansey would wait until he heard the  _ click _ of the seat belts before beginning to drive. They buckled up.

Gansey drove past Monmouth and through the Henrietta night. He was heading for Adam’s street and driving with some leisure - he didn’t feel any need for the night to end just yet. He was a careful driver, but given the emptiness of the streets, found himself watching Adam and Ronan mumble to each other through the rearview window.

“Looks good,” said Adam. “Looks better than the one on your back, frankly.”

“You’re comparing a fifty-cent piece of shit to a nine-hundred dollar work of art,” said Ronan.

“I know what I’m doing,” said Adam. “I’m comparing a fifty-cent work of art to a nine-hundred dollar piece of shit.”

Ronan laughed - a quiet, high-pitched thing this time around - and knocked his shoulder into Adam’s. 

They were nearing Adam’s street. It didn’t matter how long Gansey tried to draw it out. Henrietta just wasn’t that big a town.

Gansey looked at Adam and Ronan in the mirror. He was getting close enough to the double-wide that he needed to ask Adam if he should drop him at the end of the street or in front of his home, but the words died in his throat. He’d looked back just in time to see Adam, who was slumped over slightly and leaning on Ronan, tilt his jaw up and give Ronan a kiss on the jaw. Ronan didn’t react to this, save for the slight widening of his eyes.

“Here’s fine,” said Adam. “You can let me out here.”

Gansey stopped the car. Adam got out and shut his door.

“You’ll come by tomorrow?” asked Gansey, leaning through his window.

“Sure,” said Adam. “After work.”

Gansey nodded. He watched Adam turn to walk down his road. Gansey turned to Ronan.

“You coming up front?” he asked.

Ronan climbed up to the passenger’s seat, hitting his head on the roof of the car.

“I thought you might get in my car like a normal person, from the outside,” said Gansey.

“I don’t imagine you’d let me drive right now,” said Ronan.

Gansey thought back to the kiss on the jaw, and then thought forward to the two of them in the hospital as a result of Ronan’s reckless driving.

“I think I’ll drive,” said Gansey.

He started up the car again and drove back towards Monmouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! please leave a comment - theyre all very valuable to me. if you want to get in touch with me when im not on ao3, ill be on tumblr @putoriius !  
> also im thinking i might write a little one shot about gansey and adams kiss?  
> edit: hi i actually did end up writing the one shot about the adansey kiss! you can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11466021)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, things came out of Ronan’s dreams without his permission. Sometimes he didn’t remember what he dreamed - how the things that came out showed up in the first place. Sometimes he could make a halfway decent guess, if something had been troubling him, or if he had something stuck in his thoughts. Like a song.
> 
> Sometimes, Ronan had no idea what his subconscious was doing. Sometimes (one time, this time), Ronan woke up with a pair of aluminum knitting needles in one hand and four balls of soft blue yarn curled up by his chest. Ronan squinted at the balls of yarn. He grimaced at the knitting needles. Then he set all of it down and went to steal Gansey’s laptop.
> 
> \---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tbh i thought i was going to leave this fic at three chapters, but these boys wont leave me alone. its pretty rude of them  
> also!!! this is just a quick reminder that this fic basically takes place in the ether. like, this is nowhere in the timeline. when i first started writing it, i was only part of the way through the first book (way back in the day) and now ive finished them all, so a bunch of things dont line up with the True Timeline (like adam lives with his parents still, but they also all know about ronans dreaming?? instead of consistency, i like to employ a fun writing technique called im forgetful and im doing what i want)

Adam couldn’t make it to Monmouth the next day, or the day after that. Gansey tried not to be too put-out over it. Ronan pretended he didn’t care, but his tells were too obvious. He wasn’t slamming things, but he was just on the edge of it. Gansey could feel the electricity thrumming off Ronan in waves. Even Noah, who was spending less and less time at Monmouth and more and more time at Fox Way, could taste Ronan’s growing restlessness.

The next time Adam found his way to Monmouth, Gansey was covered in dirt.

“Do you own a single pair of jeans?” asked Adam.

Gansey looked up. He was sitting side-saddle on the ground next to his car, blatantly misusing a carjack. His khakis were being ruined by the asphalt.

“It’s possible,” said Gansey. “Is it a crime to prefer a kinder fabric?”

Adam shook his head affectionately. He dropped his bag against the wall and strolled towards Gansey. He squatted down next to him.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

Gansey cracked a smile. “Changing a tire. Trying, anyway. I don’t remember how.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Move over,” he said.

“No,” said Gansey. “I want to do it.”

They had a momentary stand-off, and then Adam conceded. He sometimes couldn’t understand why Gansey did shit like this - little things to play poor for a second or two, why he’d want to change his own tire when it was someone like Adam’s job to do it for him - but he was starting to draw up a picture of it in his mind.

Adam looked around the car. “Do you have a kit?”

Gansey blinked. “Try the trunk.”

“You get it,” said Adam. He shifted, sitting cross-legged. “And get the spare out while you’re at it. You’ll want to check that it’ll even work before you take the current one off.”

“The current one has a nail in it,” said Gansey, getting up. He dusted his hands off on his khakis. “How much worse could the spare be?”

“You can still drive on a tire with a nail in it. It’ll leak, but you can still drive,” said Adam. “If that spare is old enough, though, it won’t be any good.”

“The spare is newer than the regular tire,” said Gansey. He heaved the spare out of the trunk and rested it against the back of the car. He grabbed the kit while he was at it.

“Now what?” asked Adam.

“We lift the car, yes?”

“Loosen the bolts,” said Adam. “Order doesn’t matter for this part.”

“Will it later?” asked Gansey.

“Mhm,” hummed Adam. “Give me that.”

Gansey held the kit just out of reach.

“I want to do it,” said Gansey.

“Cool it,” said Adam. “I’m - I’m  _ teaching _ you. I’ll show you how to do the first two, you can do the last three. Okay?”

“Ah,” said Gansey. “Of course.”

Adam took the kit and opened it up. He grabbed the tool he needed and set the rest aside.

“This,” said Adam, holding it up. “Is a lug wrench. You’ll use it to loosen up the bolts. Lug nuts. Whatever you feel like calling ‘em.”

Gansey nodded seriously, like this was the most important thing he’d heard all year.

“You fit it around the bolt and turn it,” Adam fit the lug wrench around a bolt, arm sticking out to the left. “Now, it’ll be too tight here for you to do it by hand easy, so I usually just -”

Adam stepped on the arm, letting his weight push it down. He’d seen Boyd do it before - they normally used a gun for this type of thing, but every once in awhile Boyd liked to pull out a lug wrench on his own car - and he was big enough that the wrench would just ease down. Adam had to jump a little.

“Okay?” said Adam. Gansey nodded again. “Don’t try and take it all the way off - partly because we don’t want the tire falling everywhere when we lift the car, and partly because the arm is too long. When you get to the lower bolts, it’ll just run into the ground.”

“Mm,” said Gansey.

Adam did it again with the second bolt. Gansey wondered if he’d ever be able to change a tire with the same leaping elegance that Adam did.

God. If Ronan had somehow heard Gansey think that, he’d never hear the end of it.

\---

Sensing a disturbance in the force, Ronan looked up from his favorite hobby - glowering at nothing and trying to get Chainsaw to do tricks. Whatever. She was ignoring him anyway.

Ronan got up from his bed and went out into the main area. He had a sneaking suspicion that he was supposed to be making fun of Gansey for  _ something _ right about now, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. When in doubt, he supposed, it was always a good day to make fun of the boat shoes.

A peal of muffled laughter drew Ronan to the windows. He could see Adam and Gansey in the parking lot, the ankle of Gansey’s khakis somehow caught on the end of a lug wrench. Adam had his arms crossed, and he was smiling in the big, unafraid way he did when he forgot to worry himself. Gansey stumbled up. Ronan could hear the gravel crunch under Gansey even from way up in the loft.

There was another peal of laughter from Adam. Gansey had figured out how to tear his khakis on the lug wrench.

\---

“I don’t know how you do it, Dick,” said Ronan. “That thing has rubber covering the end. It designed not to catch on shit.”

“I’m very talented,” said Gansey, looking altogether rumpled. Adam snorted.

“Are you looking to help him?” asked Adam. “You should know how to change a tire.”

“I know how to change a tire,” said Ronan, irritated. “I just came down here to make fun of Gansey, like always.”

“He doesn’t know how to change a tire,” said Gansey.

“You’re confusing me with yourself,” said Ronan.

“You’d think he would, since he loves cars so much,” said Gansey, completely facing Adam.

“He doesn’t love cars,” said Adam. “He loves what they represent.”

“Fuck  _ off _ ,” said Ronan.

“What do you think they represent? Freedom?” asked Gansey.

“I was thinking something a little more phallic,” said Adam. Ronan kicked some gravel at him.

“Assholes. Both of you,” said Ronan. He jumped up on the hood of the car.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” asked Gansey. “That’s my car.”

“Just settling in. Ought to be a good show, yeah? Dick playing a handyman,” said Ronan.

Both Gansey and Adam soured a little at Ronan’s attitude, but figured it wouldn’t be worth it to call him out. Ronan could be such an asshole about his wealth, though to be honest, Adam sometimes preferred that to Gansey’s approach. Where Gansey sometimes pretended there was absolutely nothing different between the two of them, that their cultures were the same and everything, Ronan liked to point out the obvious. Adam just wished he wasn’t so mean about it sometimes, but then, it wouldn’t have been Ronan.

\---

Sometimes, things came out of Ronan’s dreams without his permission. Sometimes he didn’t remember what he dreamed - how the things that came out showed up in the first place. Sometimes he could make a halfway decent guess, if something had been  _ troubling _ him, or if he had something stuck in his thoughts. Like a song.

Sometimes, Ronan had no idea what his subconscious was doing. Sometimes (one time,  _ this _ time), Ronan woke up with a pair of aluminum knitting needles in one hand and four balls of soft blue yarn curled up by his chest. Ronan squinted at the balls of yarn. He grimaced at the knitting needles. Then he set all of it down and went to steal Gansey’s laptop.

\---

Knitting was a lot of fucking work. He didn’t know how anyone could manage it. There was an awful lot of counting. He didn’t know how people did this for fun, as a  _ hobby _ . It looked so fluid in the Youtube videos, but it was clunky and uncomfortable when Ronan tried to do it himself. The yarn kept slipping.

“Get wooden needles,” said Noah.

Ronan gritted his teeth and purposefully didn’t flinch.

“I hate it when you do that,” said Ronan. “Can’t you knock?”

“Metal needles are too slippery for beginners,” said Noah. “And plastic ones are too shitty. You should get some bamboo ones - they don’t slip so much.”

Ronan tugged at the ball of yarn - somehow, he’d managed to make a big knot of the whole thing.

“Did you knit?” asked Ronan, trying desperately to sound casual about it.

“No,” said Noah. “I used to do quilting stuff. With my grandma. One of my sisters likes to knit, though.”

Ronan regretted asking. He didn’t like doing anything that got Noah to sound so sad.

“There’s a yarn shop in town,” said Noah. “If you want to get some decent needles. If you don’t want to wait to fall asleep, I mean.”

“Don’t -” Ronan gritted his teeth again. “Don’t tell Gansey. Or Adam. Or  _ Blue _ . But help me cast on.”

“Don’t tell them you’re knitting, or don’t tell them you asked for help?” asked Noah.

“Fuck you,” said Ronan, but he didn’t mean it. Noah giggled.

\---

Five days and two balls of yarn later, Ronan put a crooked scarf under Gansey’s pillow. He tiptoed around all day, waiting for Gansey to stumble upon it. He was full of restless energy and couldn’t tell what he’d hate more - for Gansey to just never find the scarf, or for Gansey to find the scarf and talk to him about it. He wished, for just a moment, that Gansey was stupid, and that he might think he’d owned the scarf all along and had simply misplaced it underneath his pillow.

Unfortunately, Gansey was smart, and he was lounging on his mattress and reading his Latin textbook when he discovered the scarf. His pen escaped him and he reached for it, knocking his pillow out of place in the process. Setting down his textbook, Gansey carefully pulled the scarf from its hiding place.

It was a simple scarf, all things considered. No patterns, no color changes - nothing out of the ordinary for an early knitter. Some rows were tighter than others and made the scarf dip in certain places. It was ribbed. It was soft, dark blue, and cool to the touch. Gansey examined it carefully.

“Ronan,” he said. No response, so, louder this time. “Ronan!”

“What,” said Ronan. He hadn’t opened his bedroom door. Gansey would guess he hadn’t even moved.

“Where did this scarf come from?” asked Gansey.

For a moment, there was nothing. Then the door to Ronan’s room clicked open. Ronan stood sourly in the doorway.

“What?” asked Ronan. He said it like it was a chore - like he wanted Gansey to know he had very important goings-ons going on in his room, and it was really taking a chunk out of his day to entertain scarf-related questions.

Gansey didn’t notice. Or he didn’t care. Regardless, he was undeterred.

“Is this your scarf?” asked Gansey.

“No,” said Ronan, because it wasn’t. It was a gift, and he’d already given it away.

“Did you -” Gansey stopped, and stroked the scarf. It was still cool, even in the current sweltering heat of Monmouth, even after being handled, even after spending all afternoon under a pillow.

“Did I what?” asked Ronan, who didn’t want to have this conversation, but who hated it when people stopped mid-thought.

“Did you dream this?” asked Gansey.

“Yes,” said Ronan, and it wasn’t a lie. He’d dreamed the needles and the yarn. He hadn’t dreamed the work or the beginnings of yarn burn on his left hand, but he’d dreamed all the building blocks.

“It’s very soft,” said Gansey. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” said Ronan, and he slammed the door behind him.

\---

It turned out you couldn’t do much more than scarves and other flat things with normal straight needles, and Ronan wasn’t anywhere near good enough to consider incorporating additional needles and shit yet, so he made another scarf. This one was ribbed vertically instead of horizontally, like Gansey’s, and he was trying to think of a way to make Adam take the goddamn thing without making a whole fuss over it. Adam could get pissy and angry when anyone tried to give him something. Ronan wasn’t sure he’d ever understand it. It was a  _ gift _ .

It happened when he was dropping Adam off after work. The car was quiet, except for the engine, with Adam too tired to make conversation himself and with Ronan too nervous to do any of the heavy lifting. He thrummed with energy, electricity running through his hands and into the steering wheel. He tapped his thumbs against it, stole a glance at Adam, and sped up. Ronan hated how Adam looked in his car after dark. He hated the way Adam leaned against the window, how the moonlight did kind things to Adam’s eyelashes, how Adam sometimes fell half-asleep on the ride home. He hated - well, he didn’t. He didn’t hate how Adam looked, which was, infuriatingly, very good - he hated that this was where Adam let his guard down. He hated that Adam wasn’t letting his guard down on purpose. He hated that Adam was this exhausted, and that for  _ ages _ before Ronan and his car came along, for ages before Adam learned to trust Ronan and to accept the rides, that Adam used to walk home like this. He used to bike home this tired.

Ronan stole another glance at Adam. Frankly, he couldn’t believe the kid wasn’t dead.

He sped up again. They hit a pothole hard enough to wake Adam up. His eyes fluttered open.

“Sorry,” Ronan said. Adam hummed in response. He really was tired. Exhausted. He’d fall into bed, and it’d be a miracle if he woke up without having slept for fourteen straight hours.

When they got to the tip of Adam’s street, Ronan stopped the car and Adam started to get out.

“Wait,” said Ronan. Adam froze in the middle of unclipping his seatbelt.

Ronan turned to the backseat and rummaged around. Adam quirked an eyebrow. Eventually, Ronan found what he was looking for and shoved it at Adam.

“What the hell is this?” asked Adam, now fingering a soft blue scarf.

“It’s a scarf, dumbass,” said Ronan.

“You know it’s, like, ninety degrees out right now, right?” said Adam dryly.

“It’s a cold scarf,” said Ronan.

And it was. Now that Adam paid attention to it, the scarf was cool to the touch.

“Did you dream this?” asked Adam.

And there it was - the out that Ronan wanted.

“Yeah,” he said, and it still wasn’t a lie.

Adam stared at him for a while. He was getting tired of Ronan and Gansey trying to give him things. Well, he was mostly tired of Gansey trying to give him things. Ronan normally didn’t try as hard, or so obviously. Adam had yet to figure out the rule on dream objects - they didn’t cost Ronan anything, not as far as he could tell - but they were still a gift. They still meant he owed Ronan something, and Adam didn’t have anything to give.

“Dick has one too,” said Ronan. “What can I say? My dreams are full of fucking  _ wool _ , Parrish. It’s crazy.”

It was the right thing to say. He had to depersonalize the gift - make it sound like it was no big thing. If Adam had been more awake, even a little less sleepy, it wouldn’t have worked, but Ronan had a sneaking suspicion that Gansey could even force a telephone on Adam in this state.

“Fucking wool, huh?” said Adam. “Tell me you don’t dream of  _ fucking _ wool.”

Ronan snorted. “Get out of my car, Parrish,” he said, but only because he didn’t trust himself to be around Adam and his eyelashes for much longer. He didn’t know what he’d end up saying.

Adam rolled his eyes, but got out. He waited at the end of the drive while Ronan drove off, angry clouds of dust from the road rolling behind him. Adam stroked the scarf again and pressed it to his cheek. It really was cold.

Then, he shoved it in his backpack, underneath all his books and assignments. He didn’t want anybody around here to see the scarf - it belonged to him. That car ride and everything in it - it belonged to  _ him _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave a comment!! or come hang out with me on tumblr @putoriius! send me an ask or something!!!  
> also in case it wasnt clear ronan stole ganseys laptop to google "how to knit" lmao

**Author's Note:**

> please leave me a comment i need them for validation i cherish every one of them  
> if you want to hang out with me when im not on ao3, follow me on tumblr @putoriius !


End file.
